


Dear Atlas

by Biscoote



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Galaxy Garrison AU, M/M, Original Garrison Trio, Pre Kerberos AU, Pre-Kerberos from Keith's point of view, just by the way, kerberos - Freeform, more tags to be added as the story progresses, this is gonna be a long fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:23:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biscoote/pseuds/Biscoote
Summary: Keith Kogane joins the Galaxy Garrison soon as he turns eighteen, seeking solace and escape from the abuse at his orphanage. At the top of his class, he is the secondary pride of the military, he presents smarts and opportunity at every turn and the garrison recognizes his promise and rewards it greatly. He makes friends with Shiro and Matt Holt and through finding himself and his identity, he finds that friends are more important than he thought, and like a moth drawn to a flame, love will burn you up if you let it.Takashi Shirogane is in his third year at the Galaxy Garrison. He is the primary pride of the military and the golden child of his family. With scholarships and support at every turn, he bespeaks possibility and greatness, bringing dignity to the institution with his strength, smarts and humility. Shiro learns through relationships that the things he thought most important, might not be, and that sometimes, sacrifices have to be made for the greater good.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! It's been a while since I've published anything! I've been working on a few Voltron fics lately, so here's the first chapter of one that I finished writing this morning! 
> 
> If you've read any of my other fics, you know that I research the hell out of jargon before I write, so if you find military terms you don't know or that don't make sense in context, feel free to google or ask me what they mean! (Also, I don't have much experience with the military, so I've been doing as much research with what I can to try and make it feel realistic enough. ((My one saving grace is that this is a futuristic military base so HA!)))
> 
> Anyway! Let's get this party started!

 

“Keith Kogane?" A big, burly man reads off Keith's name from a never ending list of recruits, his hat tipped over one eye and the visible one informing his audience that he didn't want to be there.

"The one and only." Keith replies, looking disinterested but standing at attention with his legs together and his hands at his sides, short black hair slicked back in a formal fashion. "Er- Yes sir." 

"This list says you've got the best scores in your age group. That's a pretty big deal, kid."

"So they tell me."

The big military man huffs and looks like he's about to retort, but he stays quiet. "You've been assigned to the twenty-second barracks... And the twelfth batallion. Go get your uniform over there. The men at the table will show you where to go."

Keith nods, moving to walk to where he was directed, but not before the scruff of his jacket was roughly grabbed, making him whip his neck back.

"I didn't dismiss you yet, Kogane. Your good scores will mean nothing here if you can't obey orders, you got that?" The man looks like he has more to say, his big lips hanging open, but remaining silent for a moment as the man's eyes search him, trying to figure him out. Keith knew that look like the back of his hand. Adults who thought you were nothing but trouble and saw kids as puzzles. The man shakes his head and shoves Keith forward. "Now get going rookie."

"Am I dismissed then?" Keith asks in a flat tone, his eyes looking bored and disenterested. Being handled like this wasn't anything that he wasn't used to.

"Cut the sass, wingnut. Yes- you're free to go." The man looks glad for some actual interaction, despite having just mildly berating a young adult. "Find your place and stay there until you're told otherwise. And drop the attitude."

"Yes sir." Keith replies, wrinkling his nose a bit as he walks off, surveying the boring building that he had ended up in. It was absolutely filled to the brim with recruits, their excitement bubbling, fresh thoughts ready to be sculpted, and aside from the loud chatter, the place was incredibly underwhelming. Almost completely grey, and a never-ending catacomb of hallways expanding out in front of him. It smelled of oil, sweat and fresh carpeting. Old friends hugged and congratulated each other on getting into the military, their family members standing off to the side looking either proud or teary-eyed. Or both. Keith couldn't quite appreciate it. Growing up a orphan with no friends kinda did that to you.

Instead, he trudged on through crowds of people by himself, ignoring the chatter and the emotional turmoil of it all. Eventually, he makes it to a room that reminded him of those old smelly rooms at ice skating centers where they distribute your shoes to you. It's nearly the same process too, apparently. Keith gives his year and his sizes, and a well folded uniform is handed to him, a map of the military base at the top of it. He looks at it dejectedly as he tries to figure out just where exactly he was assigned to. The man said twenty-second baracks, but which room? He assumed that they'd assign him a dorm room once he got there. "Get dressed in your room and then head to the assembly hall for an orientation." The woman says, speaking it as if she had said it a thousand times today. Keith knew she had.

"Thanks..." He mumbles as he walks away, juggling a knapsack with all the other objects he had been given today. So far, it was all he really had.

♠ ♠ ♠

As Keith assumes his regular wallflower status in the crowded barracks he had been assigned to, he adjusts awkwardly in his new uniform, the neckline feeling a bit too tight around his neck. (It doesn't take him very long to break uniform code by unbuttoning the top of the collar.) Keith stares at the ground, feeling watched. He had a strange suspicion that everyone had their eyes on him. They were all whispering to each other in groups. It felt like the orphanage again. This thought makes him nervous, and he swallows hotly.

He jumps as a new voice approaches him.

"Kogane? Matthew Holt. But you can call me Matt." A scrawny kid with glasses extends his hand to Keith while his other hand adjusts his glasses up his nose. Keith stares at the hand for a moment before giving a gentle nod and a smile, granting the man his hand, clasping it softly. "We're roomates, I believe, or that's what the paper here is telling us," Matt says with a dorky snort, gesturing to a long line of papers hung on a bulletin board.

"Keith."

"So you're the legendary man. Rumors say you scored the best that any rookie ever has on the exams. That true?"

"Would it matter?"

"To them, it seems," Matt laughs as he looks over his shoulder at the crowd of people, who all look like they've finally been found out.

"So does it matter to you?" Keith asks, looking a bit cold but not meaning to be.

"Not really. I mean- I'd be lying if I wasn't impressed, but we're all here for the same thing aren't we?" Matt smiles, and Keith can tell he has a good heart. "To learn."

"You're the kind of nerdy kid who's good at everything, aren't you?" Keith jokes, smirking in a friendly manner as he finally begins to settle down, his shoulders relaxing and his breath leveling out.

"One could say that!" Matt laughs, looking back at the hall. "Listen, we'd better head down to the mess hall for orientation."

"Mess hall? Isn't that normally where people eat?" Keith begins to walk with his new aqquaintence.

"Well, they clear it all out for orientation every year, as it's the biggest room in the garrison. They fold up all the tables and chairs and hide them in the flight room until dinner. When they make you help set it all back up."

"You're a first year. How do you know all this?"

"My dad. He's a scientist that works here. Not a general or anything, more of a kook by their standards, but he's always around. I've been around the Galaxy Garrison ever since I was little."

"So did you join the military because you wanted to or because your dad pressured you into it?" Keith asks, blinking at the ground as they walk.

Matt just laughs again, and it takes Keith off guard. People normally threw punches at him or reprimanded him when he spoke. "I'd be lying if I said he didn't influence me, at least a little bit. I mean, growing up with a eccentric father who only ever talked about space. It certainly got me excited, but he never pressured me into joining. He _totally_ cried when I joined though."

"That wasn't offensive to you?"

"What was? Oh, no, why would it be?" Matt turns his head. "Left here,"

Keith smiles at him.

He has a feeling he's going to be happier here.

"So, what made you enlist? Parents? Passion? Pride?"

"To get away from the orphanage."

Matt looks a bit taken aback. "You're an orphan?" Keith can tell he's trying to remember if he had said anything offensive. It was another look he had memorized.

"Yup." Keith replies simply, as there wasn't much else to say.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen."

"And you were never adopted? Oh- sorry, that's probably not a good question to ask."

"I don't mind it," Keith replies, pulling at his cuffs. "People came. I had foster parents. It just never really worked out."

"Troubled soul?"

"Something like that."

"So the military is better than the orphanage?"

"To be honest, it's about the same so far," Keith chuckles, sucking on his teeth in thought before he continues. "Adults who yell at you into submission? Pound the personality out of you?"

"Fair enough." Matt replies, looking sympathetic but not like he quite understands. "So no family at all?"

"Think I'd be an orphan if I did?"

Matt quirks a brow and his mouth purses in a awkward smile. He adjusts his glasses again. "Sorry, no, like, brothers and sisters,"

"Not that I know of," Keith replies bitterly. The orphanage didn't generally let you keep your families together, ironically. He doesn't want to talk about himself anymore. "So, your dad?" He prompts nervously.

"Oh! Yeah, he's been pushing to go on a expedition up there for a while," Matt gestures upward towards the sky, "they haven't really given him clearance yet though. The technology is still a little, ehhh, let's say, glitchy, especially when you go as far as he wants to, and the higher ups are using that as an excuse not to go."

"Your dad would go into space with glitchy technology?"

"Well, you know, it's not as bad as it used to be! We've traveled to Mercury and Mars and all, but he's shooting for pluto. For some reason he has this... obsession with it. I think he wants to discover something and name it after himself," Matt jokes, snickering into his shoulder. "I love my dad though. I support his cause and I think the want to know as much as we can about the planets around us is valid. The Garrison is more concerned with the firepower though, which is why we're here, and why he's still grounded examining Mars rocks."

"The people in charge will always abuse their power," Keith mutters, feeling for Matt's dad.

"Well," Matt looks amused, "Most of them, but not all of them."

They make it to the mess hall and Keith suddenly realizes how many other recruits there were. It looked like... seven or eight hundred. Maybe even a thousand. He takes a deep inhale of breath and feels a bit overwhelmed by it. His orphanage had only had maybe two hundred people at the most.

Keiths eyes falter to someone making a bit of a scene off to the side, whooping in a rowdy manner that Keith could only roll his eyes at. His bigger friend looks anxious, like he's trying to get him to shut up and be quiet, but it isn't really working.

He pulls his eyes away and ignores them as a man walks out onto the large platform in the front of the room, walking to a microphone and tapping it a couple times before he starts to speak. He clears his throat and the room quiets after a few moments, the man making a ruckus taking a second to calm himself down. With one last 'WHOO' the room goes silent.

"Good morning. I'm Commander Iverson. If you're here it means you've been accepted into the Galaxy Garrison. You must be reminded, first and foremost, that this is not a college, this is not a freeform university, this is the military, and there will be no fratenizing, partying, or rebellion within the ranks, and you will be punished as such if you break these rules. This is a formal institution, and you're responsible for your career and role here. Your personal handbooks will be delivered to your dorms soon. In there you will find your rules, ranks and class lists. Follow these and make sure not to stray from the maps and you will be fine. Today, you will spend getting settled in and meeting people,"

The speach goes on for nearly an hour, and Keith pays attention for all of it, feeling a bit ecstatic to be doing something else with his life for once. The change was exciting him, making his heart pound and his fists clench as he stifles a grin. Occasionally, he looks to his side at Matt, who looks just as proud, with shining eyes behind thick frames.

In this institution, promise and bright futures was only to follow.

Especially when you were at the top of the class.

Keith smirks, his fists clenching in determination.

After the briefing, it goes as Matt said. Lunch was to be served soon, so the commanders had all the recuits set the tables back up. They barked orders at each other like dogs, having to yell over the clatter of men and women in their late teens who had yet to learn humility. Keith could easily tell that for most of the higher ups, this was the worst day of the year. For some, it was the best. Some of the 'dogs' devored fresh meat, while other's turned their nose up like it was rotten. The hierchy was clear to the recruits, though some didn't quite respect it just yet.

After what Keith could only assume was nearly the fiftyth chair he had carried, Keith moves on to massive boxes of silverware, as the year had only just started, and they were still unpacking kitchenware. He's struggling to pick up the first box, his back already hurting as his shakey legs struggle to carry anything else. He really regrets not eating breakfast this morning. After shifting for another while and trying his best to lift without giving out, a presence shows up behind him, giving a soft chuckle before shaking his head. "Hey, can I help? You look a little rough for wear."

Keith looks back without bothering to get a look at the man and can't tell if he should be offended or relieved. "I can lift it myself fine."

"Sure, rookie, you're doing great, but trust me, I'm saving your ass later. Look- don't lift with your back, lift with your legs, you won't be able to carry for long with your technique." Keith notices only that the man's voice sounds incredibly soothing, as he still hasn't caught a glimpse of him yet.

Keith doesn't say anything else, and instead sets the chairs down with a gentle clatter, finally turning around. "Alright, give me your pearls of wisdom."

The man is nothing short of impressive. Big, tall and wide shouldered with dark skin and jet black hair. He's definitely attractive, to say the least. Keith's a bit intimidated, but doesn't show it.

"I'll carry one with you. Here. Feet apart at your shoulder's width, slip your hands under it as best as you can, squat down and-" Keith's noticed by now that he's a third year. He recognizes the uniform. The man grunts as he hefts the massive thing up. "Lift with your hips and legs, not your back. Ke-Keep the load close to yourself," it looks like he's having no trouble holding the weight at all.

Keith copies what he's been told and hefts up the big box of silverware, his legs feeling terribly wobbly.

"Good! Make sure to keep your posture tight. You'll throw something out if you don't," he begins walking off towards the kitchen and Keith follows, trembling and paying no mind to it.

"My name's Takashi, but you can call me Shiro,"

"Keith," this interaction feels familiar. "Sh-Shiro?'

"It's in my last name."

"J...." Keith takes a deep breaeth. "Japanese?"

"Yup! You're Korean, right? Kogane? It's nice to see more diversity here." Shiro adjusts the box but doesn't falter at all. Keith's still hobbling behind. "You've been the talk of the school. Impressive scores, they say!"

"S-So they say!" Keith grunts.

"Don't be so humble! Be proud of it."

"I don't need the-- validation-"

Shiro laughs. "We all need the validation!"

Keith grunts begrudgingly.

Once to the kitchen, he drops the box on the big metal table and then takes Keith's from him, settling it next to the other one. Keith feels and looks about like he's about to drop dead.

"You alright pal?"

"Fine," Keith gasps, laughing at himself.

"Take a breather, okay? I have to head off down to the storage rooms, but remember! Lift with your knees!" Shiro begins walking off, waving. Keith stares. What an... Odd way to meet someone. He'd had worse introductions, he supposed. It seemed like everyone here already knew him though.

"Bye..." He mumbles, swallowing dryly and watching Shiro go.

♠ ♠ ♠

Finally, lunch, and Keith's wolfing down the meal to try and quell his low blood sugar. Matt's laughing as he watches, clutching a cup of water in his hand while he props his jaw up with his wrist

"Wow! I've never seen someone enjoy the five fingers of death so much!" He calls, referring to the sausage links that Keith was eating.

"I'm not _enjoying_ them, I'm just hungry," Keith mutters as he chases the bite he had just taken with his water.

"Yeah, most people don't," Matt mutters, swishing the water in his cup. "That's why they've coined the term 'death,' and even better, 'four dicks of death," He looks upset to say it, like the word put it bad taste in his mouth.

"How appetizing."

"Oh! Shiro!" Matt brightens and raises his palm to wave at the man Keith recognizes from earlier, who smiles and walks over, settling down on the opposite side of their bench.

"Hey Matt, how's your orientation been?" Shiro hums as he adjusts his uniform, looking almost as uncomfortable as Keith, who's still shoveling beans into his mouth.

"Fantastic! I'm excited to really get into it."

"Good. I remember my first orientation like it was yesterday..."

"You're only a third year, Shiro! Stop acting so high and mighty," Matt teases. "This is Keith Kogane, the prodigy?"

"We've met," Keith mumbles as he eats.

"He's kinda feisty," Matt says behind his hand, pushing up his frames with his knuckle.

"I heard that,"

"I wasn't trying that hard to hide it," Matt adds.

"You eat like you've never eaten before!" Shiro calls with surprise as he paws his spoon at his own tray. Matt grits his teeth and looks like he's about to tell Shiro something.

"Yeah, well, you never know," Keith replies, smiling cattishly before taking another long sip of water, finally starting to feel his blood sugar settle out. That was probably why he was so cranky, but he wasn't about to start making excuses.

Matt gives a nervous laugh.

As if on cue, a fight breaks out, and Keith looks over to notice that it's the same stupid rowdy kid from earlier. "And... there's a shitbird in the making," Shiro mumbles, shaking his head. "They always start out the same."

The darker skinned boy is climbing onto the table, paying no mind to the mess of food that they've both made. The guy he's fighting with is assuming the same position. When Keith looks back to his food, he notices that Shiro's gone.

"You wanna insult my mom again, shitlamp?!"

"Dude- it was just a joke! But clearly you can't take one!"

"I can take as many jokes as I want! But not one about my mom or my heritage!"

"Sit down, pussy, it's not worth the fight. Want to get expelled on the first day?"

"I'll get you expelled on the first day! Come get some!"

"Lance, please sit down, you're gonna get us in trouble," the friend mutters, shifting about and trying to save his lunch from getting stepped on or thrown.

"HEY! Knock it off! What's going on here?" Keith looks up when he recognizes Shiro's voice, the bark pulling him from his food.

Matt chuckles, shaking his head. "Leave it to Shiro to break up the rookie fights..."

"Squid here can't take a joke!"

"Yeah well- well! Turtlefucker here is a racist piece of trash!"

"I see you guys have been talking to the second years..." Shiro mutters, reaching up and yanking the one who was apparently known as 'Lance,' away from the table, pulling him back down into his seat. "Racist piece of trash or not, you'll get kicked out for misdemeaner on the first day! Is that what you want? SIT DOWN." He pushes both men back into their seats, as Lance has already attempted to stand again. Shiro thunks both men on the back of the head. Both of them yelp and look back at him in offense. "Start again and I'll report you myself," he mutters, turning but not before giving the boys a 'I'm watching you,' signal. He sits back down with Keith and Matt. "They always find something to fight about."

"Think his cause was valid?" Keith mutters, looking up to Shiro as he takes the last couple bites.

"Racist or not, now isn't the time to deal with it..." he murmurs, feeling at his face. "Outside or on your off hours, when a general can't see you throwing punches at each other, maybe,"

"You don't believe in fighting?" Keith sasses, quirking a brow.

"I'm in the military, of course I believe in fighting,"

"Fighting for a cause?"

"Is it just?"

"Is racism?"

"I suppose you're right." Shiro laughs. "Even still, team-mates are teamates, whether you like it or not, besides, we'll never know what he said."

Keith nods in agreement. He looks at Matt and Shiro as they begin to talk about the state of the wool bedding and he thinks again of how for the first time, people around him are interacting well with him. And not really expecting anything back. He pushes his tray to the side and leans in with his cup clasped between his thin fingers, laughing with the jokes and teasing when he could.

Maybe, with these people at his side, life in the military wouldn't be so bad.

Things were starting to look up.


	2. Chapter 2

Keith starts the morning every day with a breakfast of eggs, bacon and unflavored oatmeal.

It was meant to be a protein packed breakfast to last you through a rigorous training day and to keep your brain active throughout it, to bring you to a just as shitty lunch, small and ment to be eaten fast (Just by the way, dinner that wasn't any better. Pasta, generally. Carbs to help you sleep at night. The crash was always heavy, and the wake up was always hard.) The Garrison tried hard to make you uncomfortable. Though your blood sugar wasn't low, you were often too hot or too cold, and many students had rumors about the garrison putting lead between the cover pages of your textbooks. Though the probability of the rumor being true was low, Keith wouldn’t be surprised.

One thing the Garrison was good at, however, was morale. Team working exercises, group projects, big study halls and celebrations similar to pep rallies every time something big happened. This, coupled with dorms of people from different years and the training classes with your superiors, it was very easy to stomp out the feeling of superiority that the upperclassmen had. That didn’t stop them from turning their nose up at you outside of classes, however.

It wasn't bad. Keith hadn't been bullied once yet, in fact, he seemed to be a bit revered, and while he'd rather not have everyone's eyes staring holes into his head, it was better than being called a fag every day.

It had been a month since Keith enrolled. So far, it consisted mostly of talking, training, classes upon classes upon lectures. They gave you mock drills in the middle of the night, sudden quizzes in the middle of the hallways, and kept you on your toes at all time. It wasn’t highschool, it wasn’t college, it was flight school. Keith lost track of how many times he had heard the ‘elite astro-explorers’ speech.

Keith hadn’t made many friends, but he was growing closer and closer to Shiro and Matt every day.

Things Keith knew about Matt so far; he was a scientific prodigy, very buddy-buddy with all of the scientific instructors and his father was as proud of him as could be. Keith hadn’t met the man, but he had seen Matt and his father interact from afar. The twinkle of pride he always saw in the eyes of the older man always seemed to irritate Keith. He wasn’t sure why. Matt snored at night. That is, after he was done studying until four in the morning. He always ate his potatoes before his green beans and never the green beans before the pasta. When he pushed up his glasses, he did so with his knuckles and not his fingers. He noticed that he was smart like a whip, and skinny as a twig. He didn’t have much going for him aside from his brains, but he was cute enough. He was also more friendly to Keith than anyone had been before.

Without reservation, he was always there to help Keith with his homework, to introduce him to new people or to ask him how he was feeling. Matt was a goody-goody and a teachers pet. But Keith could never hate him for it. Keith often wondered if Matt had something to gain by being friends with him. That was the only explanation for how kind he was.

Things Keith had noticed about Shiro; his eyes always intently watched yours when you spoke, he made you feel as if he was really listening to you, engaged, always smiling and laughing at things you said. He made every person around him feel appreciated and wanted while still being humble enough to accept his own praise. He put out rookie fights, alit fires in hearts, and he never turned down an opportunity to pat his classmates on the back for their efforts. Shiro was strong, tall, beautiful and the primary talk of the school. He compulsively checked his pockets.

Keith always caught him staring out the windows in yearning.

Shiro was, like Keith, also a prodigy, but more in memory and strength than in talent. The Garrison drooled over him. Instructors stopped him in the halls to just talk, men and women alike starred as he walked by, and he never really seemed to notice. He was humble and ethereal, always helping anybody struggling with anything, dropping whatever he was doing to assist or teach another person one of his many ‘old tricks.’ He was a natural born teacher, and Keith felt like people were oddly drawn to him.

Keith had started to feel less special about Shiro’s kind deed on his first day, and hated himself for thinking he was anything special at all.

Not only was Shiro incredibly astute, but he was also strapping.

Shiro was attractive. The women knew it, the men knew it, Keith saw their distracted glances towards Shiro in class all day, it's not like it wasn't already blatantly obvious to everyone around him. You'd think the men drooled as much as the girls.

He was powerful, a good fighter and a wonderful friend.

Keith noticed also, that Shiro didn’t talk about his family much. Almost seemed to avoid the topic.

This all felt like a dream so far. Keith had gone from being a friendless nobody to the revered talk of the school. He had two friends by his side, and that was enough for him. It seemed that Shiro, Matt and Keith together were quite the trio. Keith had a conspiracy that the Garrison did that on purpose, but it worked out, so he didn’t really mind it.

Keith realizes this at training as he throws punches at his new friend.

"So what made you want to join the military?” Shiro asks.

"Well," Keith starts, winding up his next punch and then throwing it forward onto the thai punching pads that Shiro had strapped to his forearms. "Lack of anything better to do, I suppose."

"That's not a real reason. That's a reason to start- carving or something- not a good enough one to choose your career path," Shiro replies with a bit of a laugh, grounding his feet a bit more firmly by widening his stance.

"It was the easiest way to find a head over my roof for a bit." Keith bites back, punching a little harder this time. "I was an orphan," he sees no point in hiding it. It doesn't define him.

"So how far do you plan on taking this?"

"Why did _you_  join?"

Shiro laughs at Keith's redirection of his question before relaxing and taking a deep breath as he thinks. "To...To find out more about the stars. I used to memorize constellations when I was a kid, but, who am I kidding, I still do. But I always grew up with this overwhelming need to protect and learn more about the things I liked, so I decided join a Garrison..."

"You're a fighter pilot too?" Keith prompts, cracking his neck and adjusting his feet.

"Well, trying to be."

"We all are," Keith laughs, smiling a bit as he shakes his head and then hops to and fro on his feet, warming up his legs to brace for another punch. Men and women around them do the same, paired up with other third and second years. The Garrison figured it was good for morale and friend making, and to show the older groups to respect the rookies. They were almost like sub-coaches. Keith didn't mind it, though he was surprised when Shiro picked up to spar and train with. "But you are a pilot?"

"Yeah! Something like that. I got really high scores on the entry exams though, so they try to push me to learn anything else I can, just to... utilize me I guess."

"Sounds like I have a lot in store for me," Keith replies a little bitterly. He hated attention. The feeling of people's eyes on him every day was making him crazy.

"Well, in a way. I scored better on the written parts. You were out of the ballpark with the flying. Where did you learn to fly like that anyway?"

"It was just a flight simulator..."

"A incredibly well made, rigorously tested and realistically engineered flight simulator, that is. And you scored better than any beginner ever has on it."

"Maybe I cheated?" Keith replies, feeling a bit embarrassed and irritated, as he didn't really want to talk about his 'scores' again.

"You don't seem like the guy who'd cheat."

"And why's that? They always said I was a rebel in the orphanage."

"Well, I can see that you're a rebel, but you're not a cheater. In the end, all's fair with you. Am I wrong?" Shiro asks, taking a few more punches from Keith with his strong, defined arms.

"I could lie and say yes, but that's not really in my blood either," Keith swallows. He'd never really opened up to someone like this before. "Alright... I just- It just came naturally to me I guess," Keith says before feeling a bead of sweat roll down his temple and cheek, making him twitch his head a bit before he relaxes and then throws a punch with the other arm. He always favored the right fist too much in punching. "Flying, I mean."

"Doesn't surprise me. Free spirit and all that?"

"Enough about me." Keith says curtly before clearing his throat and wiping some sweat from his forehead with the back of his forearm. "Let's switch," he stands still, adjusting his black tank top as he waits for Shiro.

"Alright." Shiro unstraps the punching pads from his own arms and then hands them off to Keith, who slips them on and tightens the velcro with ease, the mechanics of the thing not taking him less than a second to figure out. As they dance around each other to stand at opposite sides of the big room, Keith turns back around a bit surprised, caught off guard as he gazes at Shiro, already fists braced and hips low as he prepared to punch. He’s tall. Intimidatingly so. But Keith had taken bullies like him before, so it didn't matter much, aside from the fact that he just found Shiro so... alluring.

That was the one element.

Keith had always kept that part of him below surface, but he had admitted it to himself long ago. Shiro was was... friendly. Too friendly. Bright. Talented. Good-Looking. Full package sort of a guy. So far, Keith hadn't found anything odd about him.

The thought makes Keith scoff as he rolls his eyes and raises his arms in preparation.

"So," Keith starts before grunting as Shiro punches into the pad a bit harder than Keith was expecting. He sees a particular glimmer in Shiro's eyes and laughs a bit.

"Make sure your footing is sound," Shiro hums as he adjusts his gloves and moves to punch again. "As you were saying..."

"Yeah, yeah..." Keith mumbles, taking a deep breath and lowering his stance for a stronger push back. "Um, you're a third year, how's the Garrison been for you?"

"Fine enough," Shiro mutters as he punches forward a few times and then hops back, making sure to stay light despite his stocky build. "The food sucks."

"The food sucks," Keith agrees bitterly. He had only been here for a week. Beans, sausage and carrots and rice was starting to get old.

"They switch it up every so often. Sometimes they'll throw you for a loop and give you space food."

"All part of the training?"

"All part of the training, and trust me, vacuumed sealed beef stroganoff could be better, despite your beliefs."

"How will I ever go on?" Keith replies flatly.

Shiro bends down and adjusts his shoes and Keith lets his mind wander, swallowing as he turns around and watches everyone else sparr, his eyes moving across people and their punching techniques. One boy he saw punching with his thumb inside his fist, to which he bit his lip at. Luckily, his sparring partner noticed and corrected him before he could break it on impact. Another girl, nearly got knocked down each time a punch was thrown at her. Keith realized most of first years didn't really know how to fight at all, and that- it was odd that he did. He hears a rustling and then gasps when suddenly Shiro's jumping up and throwing another punch at him. He ducks, fully dodging it on instinct and then grabbing Shiro's arm and throwing him to the floor with the force of his own forward motion. He hits the ground with a thud and looks back up with Keith with a happy look. "What was that?!" Keith cries, his voice cracking as he presses his foot down to Shiro's chest, still acting on instinct.

"A surprise," Shiro replies as he adjusts and laughs, letting his head drop back.

"Do you give all of your rookies, 'a surprise?'" Keith asks, rolling his eyes as he adjusts the straps on his wrists and looks down at Shiro with furrowed, confused brows.

"Not quite. I knew you wouldn't disappoint. And you didn't. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"I grew up in a  _orphanage._ " Keith replies a bit sternly, looking to Shiro and huffing, though he can't help but feel proud of himself for rising above Shiro's expectations. He steps off the man and offers him a hand, tugging him up. "They don't care what the big guys do there."

"My apologies." Shiro's eyes seem to relax a bit as a dawn of realization washes over them. Keith swallows dryly as he pretends not to notice it. "I think you should be sparring the second years, you've obviously got more than the basics down."

Keith doesn't respond and just nods as he looks back at Shiro, feeling his heart leap a bit. He doesn't want it too. In fact he inwardly rolls his eyes at himself as it happens. He was better than this.

"Hit the showers and then head on to your next class!" The supervisor barks, and the first years nearly collapse onto their knees as they finish. Keith's just glad to be rid of the small talk.

Keith had the 'History of Space Science' next. Then... more flight simulating. He heard rumors that they were pairing you up with a random team, generally someone from each area of expertise, and making you work together as best as you could. It was a bigger ship, a bigger simulator, and apparently, much harder to fly. He wasn't intimidated by the prospect in the slightest.

♠ ♠ ♠

"Kogane, Lorenz, Mcclain, Rutchowski and Boudrot. You're the next team to go in. Line up at the front door and make sure everyone knows what their positions are."

All the students do as they're told and line up facing away from the door. They begin quietly debating on what their roll is. Keith feels everyone's eyes bearing into the back of his head and he sighs.

"I wanna be head pilot," a dark haired boy says matter-of-factly. Keith recognizes him as the one who was yelling yesterday.

"Obviously not. You’re not in the right class. Kogane is gonna be the head pilot. Don't you know who he is?" Lorenz hushes, adjusting her ponytail as she rolls her eyes.

"Him? He's not that great! Just ‘cause you can jiggle a joystick better than someone else doesn't make you a better pilot."

"And how's your 'joystick jiggling,' going?" Keith prompts, raising an eyebrow.

Mcclain seems to flush, looking offended.

"You're embarrassing yourself, Mcclain," the man in charge with the clipboard mumbles, rolling his eyes. Mcclain flushes and sighs, furrowing his brows as he looks to the side a little defeated.

"Think you can handle being head pilot?" Lorenz asks with a smile, looking glad to have Keith on her team. Mcclain can't seem to say the same.

"Think you can handle being co-pilot?" Keith asks, smirking. He likes this girl.

"Certainly, Captain."

Keith scoffs and nods. "Boudrot, you'll be navigator. Rutchowski, you're a mechanic, right? Okay. Do that. Mcclain..." Keith swallows and adjusts his suit. "You can be um… You’re a cargo pilot right? Er…” He looks to the man in charge for an explanation.

“They need to know how these situations work too,” the instructor says, scribbling on his clipboard.

“Right.” Keith nods. “Well, just sit in the back and try not to get in the way. Uh… Check lights or something.”

“Are you serious? That’s the ‘cowbell’ guy of flight simulating!”

“They’re being generous just by letting you on here!”

"Is light checking- even a job in the flight simulator?!" Mcclain cries in desperation, twitching his brow in irritation.

"Now it is!” Keith replies. No one else seems to protest. Apparently Mcclain needed some humbling.

"Step inside, cadets," the officer urges, ushering them all inside. Everyone clammers to the viewing screens to look at the mess or success that was about to unfold. Some second and third years on their way to the mess hall folded their arms and waited to watch too.

Once the door of the fake pod shut, it went completely dark.

"Uhh..." He hears McClain murmur curiously.

The lights come on one by one, clicking their bulbs on with a bright flash, causing them all to flinch. Keith steps up to the main pilot's panel, settling down into a big chair in front of a massive board of buttons. The scenarios and worldviews were all randomly generated, causing each pilot to stay on their toes, as if it was a real situation. Already, an incredibly rendered view of a moon spanned out in front of their eyes, inevitably making the cadets gape. Even Keith is a little wide eyed. None of them had ever been on the moon before. Any moon. And... In this moment, it all began to feel real.

"Rutchowski. Make sure everything in the back is ship shape. Check the engine and the wiring. Make sure the emergency lights are workable..." Keith says, clearing his throat and sitting up, placing his hands on the panel and beginning to fiddle with the buttons. He had memorized them over and over and even then he didn’t need to. It all just… Made sense to him. Under his palms, he felt at peace with these switches, levels and buttons. His co-pilot settles down next to him and he cracks his neck before stretching his arms and nodding to her. “Uhh.. Cargo pilot, check the cargo or whatever.”

“There is no cargo!” Mcclain yells, plopping down into a seat.

“Message received, no cargo onboard.” Keith reaches up and flips the ships engine on, grasping a large handle-like lever and slowly pushing it up to get the boosters running. The ship jumps a little bit and Keith grits his teeth. A little bit of a rusty start, but no problem. “Are the engines running smoothly or was that a personal error?”

“Probably a personal error!”

“I _will_ demote you!” Keith barks back

“How can I be demoted?! I’m already a jobless cargo pilot?!”

“Your problem!” Keith barks loudly. “Where are we headed Boudrot?” The answer for year ones was always home. The goal was to navigate back to Earth in this flight simulators. From what it looked like to Keith, they were on Earth’s moon.That wasn’t hard. Of course, this was a beginners, first year flight simulator. “Rutchowski, check the mission statement.”

“We’re bringing some promontory rock samples home. They’ve already been collected and are in the pod bay it seems.”

“So we just have to navigate back to Earth? Child’s play...” Keith replies as he adjusts his hips back in his seat and then turns around at the sound of Mcclain’s voice.

“Don’t get cocky,” Mcclain murmurs. “It’s just flying.”

“If you wanted to be the head pilot so bad, you should have scored higher on your tests!” Keith replies, feeling irritated and starting to grow hot from it as he shifts in his seat. Lorenz is snickering. He can practically hear Mcclain rolling his eyes. “Don’t touch anything. Let’s get this ship off the ground.” Keith says with determination, glad to hear no more complaints from any of the other shipmates. He flicks another few switches and then grabs two joysticks, pulling up on them gently to get the ship off the ground before he switches the function to forward motion and then pushes down on the sticks. The ship begins to glide forward with a steady pace. A perfect take off, aside from that one engine hiccup. He looks around to make sure his crew is strapped in, though that isn’t truly his responsibility, and then begins to fly with both hands on the joysticks, his feet pushed up against engine booster pedals as he breathes. There would be no fight. But the these simulators always had something up their sleeve. “How’s the engine, Rutchowski?!” He shouts back.

“All systems go, the minor jump was just from a old booster it seems…”

“Good. Boudrot?!”

“Uploading the coordinates to your panel now.”

“Great.” Keith grins and has to keep himself from laughing a bit. Nothing filled his empty soul like flying did. In the air, or in space, he felt at peace. He didn’t know what actual flying would do for him. They didn’t take cadets out until their third year. For now, this was enough.

So off they go, gliding and turning around big man-made structures and small hills, Keith’s hands itching to try something new, to experiment. He knew he had the capacity… Not yet. Something in his brain tells him not to show off. The joysticks fit in his palms like they were built to be there, and he knows just what to do to spin around each corner, following the dot on his map, which told him to just go North. Lorenz controls the boosters, steadying out the pace of their engine as Keith flies the ship.

He pushes the sticks forward an presses down on foot pedal to the left. “Activating lower boosters,” Keith explains, preparing his crew as the ship throws itself forward with Keith’s grabbing of a bar button, twisting and pushing it in. The ship’s inside lights blink as the secondary boosters alight and push them faster. They fly above the moon’s structures now, zooming off into space. Keith pushes forward and can’t contain a laugh as he speeds ahead, causing the other crew members to whoop in excitement. No one had ever been so confident with the panel before, causing the simulation to be more realistic and fun than ever. He even hears Mcclain cry in joy. He slows the boosters for a moment and cuts the right engine, causing them to spin around aimlessly in space before he turns on the left engine and slows their movement. Now, the ship stares back into space, showing them the moon they had just left and the endless expanse of stars behind it. Everyone’s eyes glitter. Keith feels his heart swell and sing before he bites his lip and chuckles, shaking his head and using a side booster on the ship to turn them back around towards Earth.

Keith turns on the main boosters, the massive ones at the back and turns them up to full speed, causing them to hurtle towards Earth at nearly ten thousand miles a minute. This part was calm. There was nothing to dodge, just stars to view as they bolted through space.

Nearly twenty minutes of that and they finally view Earth’s massive collection of space debris. Keith slows the boosters and turns off the most powerful ones at seven thousand miles to go and makes sure they don’t go hurtling toward Earth faster than he can calm it. Up past Earth’s atmosphere they go, gliding around and dodging space trash caught in the orbit of their planet. He smiles. This software was a little outdated apparently. The Garrison had cleaned up what they could of the space debris last year. He figured it was a good obstacle course anyway.  
He enters the endless space of junk a little early, giving them what they wanted to see by dodging the pieces of trash the belt threw at him. Keith knew he was cutting it close with this, they always said to fly above it, but his instincts told him to lie low. Keith’s granted with satisfaction as he dodges a particularly large asteroid under the belt and sees a satellite even bigger than their ship pass overhead, completely dodging it before the simulator could even throw it at them. Keith hums and then points the ship toward the Earth, activating lower boosters again.

  
And that’s when the engine cuts.

“Keith!” Someone shouts in panic as it putters out, leaving them spinning unbelivably fast and hard, drifting into the Earth’s atmosphere with the boosters cut.

“HANG ON!” Keith yells back as he hangs on tight to the panel, trying to find everything as they continue to spin, his head feeling like it was being pulled to the seat. He cries out as a massive dizzying headache grabs him from the motion, making it hard to move as he punches his hand out to press two buttons. Their spinning slows, but only barely as the ship’s secondary wings launch out. Keith deploys a parachute and the entire crew launches forward at the sudden yank from the air resistance. “We still have-! Power in the panels! Hook the main panel electricity to the main booster electrical systems, do it now!” Keith yells as he grips onto something tight. “I’ll work on- Erh-! Slowing the ship!” He lets the ship continue to flip before he retracts the wings and extends landing gear, standing on the ground as his seatbelt keeps him sedentary to the seat based on the angle. His crew shrieks as he cuts all boosters, parachutes and gear in one fell swoop, letting their ship free fall down to the Earth’s surface.

At least they weren’t spinning anymore.

The catch was that they were upside down.

“Rutchowski!” Keith shrieks, unable to look behind him. Mcclain is screaming.

His mechanic screams in mild response before suddenly their engine lights click on. Keith grabs the engine switches like a cat pouncing on a mouse and flicks them off before clicking them back on and pushing against the forward motion of their free fall to start the engines up again. “LORENZ- Grab the! Shit! Grab the- Joysticks!” Keith transfers main power to her by tapping on the screen. He unbuckles his seatbelt and flies up to the ground, slamming his body onto the metal flooring of the ship.He grunts but has no time to register the pain as he slides down. Now, he presses his hand to the main booster pedal and they light up upon activation. Lorenz screams and pushes on the joysticks. The ship rights itself as his co-pilot pulls up and Keith slides into the space under his desk panel before hitting the ground again. He pants hard, hands shaking and eyes wide before he clears his throat as the ship begins flying normally now. He punches the main boosters panel and cuts them before. He crawls to his seat and coughs into the leather seating before plopping down into it and buckling himself back in. “Boudrot--?”

“S-South--- Ko-Kogane.”

“Right…” He gets his bearings as he continues to let Lorenz fly.

After a few minutes Keith takes the main control back and then Boudrot navigates them back to the Garrison manually, having no front panel to navigate with anymore. He lands it safely on the landing gear behind the base but with a bit of a clunk before nearly collapsing onto the board as he unbuckles.

“SIMULATION SUCCESS.” The screen suddenly alights. It fades out and Keith’s met with an entire crowd of people standing around them, on each level of the simulation room.

The door opens and Lorenz is caught limping out with Keith over her shoulder, who’s arm isn’t quite working correctly.

Everyone’s mouths are agape.

“What?” Keith rasps, feeling a headache coming on. “It was a basic simulation, we did awfully!” He shouts at the confused people.

“You weren’t supposed to succeed.” The Commander mumbles.

“The first simulation is made to scare the pilots’ into their reality. No one has ever… solved that mission before on the first try.”

Keith turns his head and notices Shiro standing behind one of the windows, his eyebrows to his hairline and his lips parted in surprise.

Medics run in just as Keith's vision goes dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a play to go to so I'll beta this when I get back. Tata!


End file.
